The rains began sometime in the night. It was comforting to hear the familiar drumming on our metal roof, and early in the morning, it lulled me into a few more minutes of sleep. Today we are having our first fire in the woodstove in nearly a week. The lodge has that cozy feeling conducive to reading by the fireside for the whole afternoon. Even on a grey day, it still is pretty out.

For a brief spell, fog and mist were rising on the lake, a product of warm rain heating the cold mass. I watched as it swirled up, and then eventually swallowed competely our view of Canada. Most often it is a snowstorm that obscures our view, but spring fog can do the same. It is much more mysterious, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like to be out in the midst of it. Fishermen have talked about being on the lake in such fog, and without a compass, it is pretty tough navigating.

Today, no one is on the ice, save for an occasional raven, crow or seagull that I see landing. The last ice house was pulled off on Monday evening, and it was accomplished with lots of pushing and shoving, as well as a boat to get to it. We are still surprised to think of a boat being launched so early. I recall tales from a longtime guest, who told me of pushing their boat over ice on Memorial Weekend. The goal was Little Gunflint Lake, and they used big forks to pull the boat along. One foot in, one foot out of the boat, there was no way to do it without getting wet. Determination was likely their greatest fuel. No worries of that happening this year.

The birds are singing in the rain, the pussy willows are out, and I see small green buds swelling on the lilac bush. In my twenty-six years here, I still find new and amazing things to ponder in the woods.